Chapter Two

“Sing, Sing a song,

Sing out loud, Sing out strong,

Sing of good things, not bad,

Sing of happy, not sad,

Sing, Sing a song,

Make it simple, To last your whole life long,

Don't worry that it's not good enough,

For anyone else to hear,

Sing, Sing a song.” " Joe Rapaso

 

Just outside the city walls was a tranquil river and was often a spot for young lovers to escape. The grassy banks and tree-lined edges provided a sanctuary for those who longed for a moment of quiet.

Kyari stood on the bank, skipping rocks in, and softly singing to herself.

“There’s a silence that cannot be broken

Except by the sound of a song.

The silence of no inspiration

With music can never last long.”

A rustle of leaves alerted her to a listener. She spun around, dagger at the ready.

“Whoa, watch where you’re pointing that,” Seth chuckled. “I didn’t know you sang.”

She blushed. “I don’t.”

“You don’t sing? Then what did I hear?”

“What are you doing here?” she argued, changing the subject.

“I was looking for you.”

“You want to fight again? I’m surprised you’ve already healed.”

“The medics are amazing. Expensive though.”

“How much?” she asked, pulling a pouch out of her boot.

“No, no, it’s fine,” he refused. “I could afford it. It was just more than I expected. There’s no reason for you to pay for my mistake.”

She shrugged, slipping the money back.

“It’s been a week,” he added. “There’s been plenty of time for me to heal.”

“Ready for some different terrain then?” she asked. “It’ll help you train better.”

“It wouldn’t hurt.”

“There’s a forest across the river that’ll work.”

"Why do I have the feeling that I'm walking into some kind of trap?" he half whined, half chuckled as he followed her.

"Oh, come on, you're not going to die. Get horribly injured? I can't guarantee that won't happen."

"Thanks for the reassurance," he retorted as he decided to get his cards out early, slipping the deck from his bag and placing it in a small holster located on his left hip.

She caught the movement. "Cards again?" she smiled. "They'll be a bit hard to use in the trees."

"So will my staff." He jerked a thumb behind him at the stave poking over his shoulder. "Now where'd I put those things?" he mumbled as he shuffled through his bag.

They reached the tree line, and she smiled one last time at him before disappearing into the undergrowth.

He finally pulled out a pair of leather gloves, unremarkable save for the small bits of steel sewn into the small spaces between each finger.

"There we are," he said as he slipped them on. "That's much bett-" he looked up, only to see that she had disappeared. "Oh bugger, that's going to come back and bite me in the rear isn't it?"

Shrugging, he took out a single card from his holster, holding it loosely between the index and middle fingers of his right hand. "No use crying over spilt milk, I guess," he muttered to himself as he started to cautiously wander into the undergrowth.

She sat in the trees, an arrow aimed at his back. She let it go, and then hurriedly stowed her bow, heading towards a different tree.

He was turning warily to the right when he jerked forward, her arrow colliding with his staff.

Holy"  he panicked as he spun around, trying to regain his footing. That was too close. If I hadn't turned... He gingerly felt along his quarterstaff until he found the arrow embedded in the wood and yanked it out, all the while spinning in a circle, trying to see whether his assailant was readying herself for another attack. Sheesh, I'd better start paying more attention; that's the second time I was saved by dumb luck.

When he was fairly certain that she wasn't about to shoot another pointy piece of steel at him, he gave the arrow he'd retrieved from his favorite walking stick a quick once over.

Interesting design... he mused, turning the shaft about in his hands. Complete genius actually. I didn't hear a thing.

Dearly wishing he owned some kind of quiver, he stuck the arrow through one of his bag’s straps, if only to keep it from her.

Backing up warily against a tree, he palmed a smoke bomb and a flash bang out of his bag, transferring them to each of his pockets for easy access. This was turning into a tactical nightmare and he didn't like it one bit. That arrow had been stuck in his staff at a downward angle, and unless the girl had some ungodly skill with trajectory, she could only have fired it at him from above. She's in the trees, and she's completely and utterly silent to boot. he cursed to himself.

Chasing after her was a lost cause. His gear slowed him down in the best of situations, and it restricted him dreadfully in the overgrown forest. No, if he caught up to her, it would be because she let him, which in turn would mean that he had probably walked into some trap or another.

Damned if I do, and probably just as damned if I don't. Seth chuckled to himself as he decided to hunker down and let the thief come to him instead.

She watched him closely, seeing his hands transfer items to his pockets. She smiled. She aimed again, and fired twice, once at each pocket. Turning around, she closed her eyes, heading cautiously to a different tree.

He was suddenly thankful to his now rampant paranoia as he caught a sparkle of silver in the canopy. A second later two arrows rocketed down, aiming not for any vital point, but for both of his pockets. Quickly spinning to the side, he watched as both arrows bit greedily into the tree behind him.

What’s she playing at? he mumbled to himself as he turned his gaze back to the surrounding treetops. Even if I hadn’t moved neither of them would have hit anything vital. She’s trying to incapacitate me? Feeling blindly backwards, he found one of the silver fletched shafts and yanked it out with some difficulty. Wait…Legs…Thighs...Almost waist height…My pockets! He yanked the other arrow out of the tree and stowed both next to the first. D****t, she’s playing with me and there’s nothing I can do about it.

Fine, if that’s how she wanted to play, that’s how they’d play. He’d just deal with whatever she threw at him. The sneaky toxophilite had to run out of arrows some time right?

She nearly swore under her breath, but bit her tongue. I was so close...

This time she faced his side"the one with the pocket holding the flash bang"and shot towards the pocket once more, shielding her eyes once again and moving to the next tree.

He cursed his poor peripheral vision as another arrow flew out of the trees, sinking into, and setting off the flash bang in his right pocket. A brilliant flash illuminated the forest followed by a deafening bang and an equally loud scream as he was thrown off his feet.

“That hurt!!!” he yelled as he grabbed the charred arrow stuck in his thigh and tore it out. “Oh, that’s bad,” he hissed as he looked at his leg.

Whoever said that flash bangs were basically harmless had obviously never been near one when it exploded. Absently patting out the areas of his clothing that were still on fire, he examined his new wound with a morbidly detached fascination, uncaring of whether another attack was coming his way. His flesh had, for lack of a better word, melted, and the rest of his leg was badly burned.

“Eheheh,” he winced as he tried to scoot his back against a tree. “Now what did we learn about keeping explosives in our pockets, hmm?” he mocked himself as he pulled another card out of his holster, having lost his first when the incendiary blew him off his feet.

“May as well have handed myself over to her on a silver platter,” he muttered darkly as he tried to think up some plan that didn’t involve suicide, and finding none.

She snuck around, depending on her stealth to snatch the arrows that lay beside him. She did so unnoticed and came around on his other side, staying up in the trees again. She had caught a glance of his leg and almost felt sorry for him. It's his own fault... she tried to console herself. She sent another arrow at his other pocket, this time aiming at the smoke bomb.

Seth was too preoccupied with his mangled leg to notice her snatch back her arrows, nor did he notice the other arrow she sent flying his way until it set off his smoke bomb, sinking into his other thigh as it did so.

“Forget it; this has gone one long enough,” he mumbled dully as he stared at the arrow now protruding from his left leg.

Taking advantage of his temporary cover, he dung into his bag and brought out four items: a box of matches, a cigarette, and a bonsai. Striking a match, he lit the stick and stuck it in his mouth before transferring the flame to the miniature tree. The bonsai took light almost immediately, and he lobbed it into the branches of the nearest tree.

An explosion rang out a few minutes later, the bonsai erupting in flame and setting its larger counterpart alight. “Let’s see how she likes them apples,” he grunted as he ripped the arrow out of his thigh and stood up, puffing madly on his cigarette.

He noticed the other arrows were missing as he went to place the fourth shaft with its comrades, and after a moment’s deliberation, contemptuously snapped his newly acquired arrow in half, sticking the feathered half in his bag and keeping the other half in his hand.

“Let’s start upping the stakes.”

She jumped from the tree after seeing him fling the bonsai toward it, her arm now covered in second-degree burns. She winced, looking at them. Running a bit, she created some distance between her and the fire, and then turned around. Drawing water from the air and trees around her, she sent it at the fire and putting it out.

He calmly watched as watched as water seemed to coalesce from nowhere, hurtling toward the fire. Sheesh, her magic is as insane as ever, he grumbled to himself as he started to draw and throw cards at the girl, whom he had spotted as water formed. Drawing water from thin air and trees as well; I thought that was impossible. I wonder what family line she comes from. He let a seventh card fly from his fingers.

The fire now dead, she turned towards him. The first card she noticed when a bit of hair disappeared, and her first instinct was to put up a wall of air. She smiled, and knelt down, picking up six more cards. And that makes seven. She knew he knew where she was, so she stayed hidden in the underbrush, creeping towards the closest tree.

He let another two cards fly before halting and listening, but he heard nothing. Either I missed her, or her pain threshold is through the roof. He puffed thoughtfully on his cigarette. Hope I didn't kill her, though she would probably have fallen if I did... He dropped his old butt, pulled out a new stick, lit it, and stuck it firmly in his mouth. Back to square one huh?

Two cards flew above her head, and she paused in her crawling. Kyari stood up carefully, hiding herself behind a tree. This can't drag on forever, she pondered. She then grinned, making her way stealthily to the tree that he was in front of. She stayed behind it, not letting him know she was there.

He finished his second cigarette and had almost grabbed a third when he stopped himself short. Hooo boy, I gotta watch myself or this’ll turn into an actual addiction. He shakily pulled his hand from the bag. Now where’s Kyari gotten herself to now? He leaned back against the tree, his gaze flicking to the branches directly above him.

She sighed mentally, realizing her situation. She couldn't let this go on forever, and she didn't want him to suffer. He would need medical attention for his legs, or the nerves might not reconnect. That would be torture, and she shuddered at the memory.

She wouldn't kill him. She couldn't kill him. Not now.

Standing behind a tree for a moment more, she then walked out, holding her dagger out in front of her, blade sideways. "Truce?" she asked, her eyes pleading.

"This coming from someone who had a knife to their neck in a spar and decided it would be a bright idea to stab their opponent in the gut," he snapped, and then sighed. "Sorry, I'm being a jerk. Fine, but we're not fighting in a forest ever again, all right?"

"We won't fight here again. The reason I won wasn’t because I knew the forest; I won because I could be quiet. The forest is a place for stealth more than anything. I'd also like to point out that the idea of stabbing you was to teach you a lesson."

"There's noticing small details, and then there's being observant to an ungodly degree in the middle of combat," he grunted as he levered himself off the tree. "Anyone can have anything hidden anywhere on their bodies. Ignoring that will get you killed, but so will the hesitation if you worry about it overmuch." He poked his leg curiously before looking at her. "That is unless you know about everything they have, where they have it, and how they can use it,” he added with a wry grin. "I'm all right at being silent, but nowhere near the level you displayed," he mumbled with a smile. "I could learn a thing or two from you on that front." He poked his leg again. "I think I can make it back under my own power."

She looked at his leg, worried. "Are you sure? I can help you if you need it."

"Nah, I'm fine, see?" He gave a little hop to prove his point, though he winced slightly as he came down. "Maybe not for as long as I thought though," he acknowledged, setting off. “I should probably hurry."

She watched him leave, concerned he wouldn't make it. He's stubborn and would never let me help him even if I tried. The girl glanced around. They had caused a mess: that was for sure. She smiled wryly. At least neither of us is dead.

She took one last look around, and then headed towards the hospital, seeking treatment for her burns.

 

*           *           *

 

Seth stumbled into the hospital tired, and as far as the staff was concerned, delirious as he was talking to his bag.

"Oh, no you don't," he mumbled to his cloth satchel. ”We're not going over this again. Two's the limit I said, and that's final!"

Gripping his quarterstaff weakly, which he'd taken out to support himself during the final part of his trek, he looked up blearily to see white washed walls and a small group of doctors and nurses making their way towards him.

"See?" he poked his sack teasingly. "Didn't need you." He fell unconscious and slipped to the floor, the medical personnel quickly transferring him to a free room.

 

*           *           *

 

Before she saw to her burns, Kyari inquired at the front desk, "Have you seen a brown-haired boy, hurt legs..." They pointed her down the hall before she could finish. She nodded her thanks, and then made her way, slipping quietly into his room.

 

*           *           *

 

Seth was lying in a plain bed, insensate to the world. The burns about his hip and thigh had been severe, and he was lucky to have made it back to the hospital in the first place. The blanket anesthetic he had taken hadn't helped matters.

He was fortunate, very fortunate indeed. As much as he disliked magic, he probably wouldn't have survived, much less retained a fully functioning leg if there hadn't been a whole host of healers stationed here. Be that as it may, magic could only be pushed so far, and the boy's limb would most likely be slower than its sibling, not to mention the large patch of discolored and slightly morphed skin he now sported on his right side. For now that medics had done all they could, and they let time take over responsibility for the repairs.

 

*           *           *

 

Kyari sat in a chair in his room, watching him breathe. It was nice to have a chance to rest.

A doctor saw her arm and reacted instantly. "Miss, what happened?"

She glanced up. "Oh. It got burned, obviously,” she muttered.

The doctor immediately pulled out a medical kit and began treating her arm. She was oblivious to the doctor's actions, falling asleep in the chair.

 

*           *           *

 

Seth groaned slightly as he slowly came around, only to be greeted by an oddly comforting expanse of white.

I am getting way too used to this, he mumbled to himself as he recognized the all too familiar hospital layout. Now why am I here this time?

He lay in his bed, still exhausted despite his rest, and started putting recent events in order in much the same fashion as one would solve a puzzle after taking two sets, tossing them together, and shaking the whole lot vigorously.

Ok, so let’s see, he started once he’d placed everything in an acceptable timeline. Carrying flash bangs in your pocket"or any other incendiary device for that matter is most definitely not good"fighting in a forest is an attempt at recreational suicide, he listed, ticking off each subject with his fingers. And finally, why hasn’t Kyari been offered a position in an Assassin’s Guild? Seriously, being that specialized for stealth, yet varied enough to handle all those situations is…ridiculous.

He sighed as he took a moment to review his thoughts. He was just bitter he supposed, to be so completely outmatched in almost every category. Heh, well I guess you don’t improve unless you fight strong enemies. He gave a small grin as he tried to sink himself deeper into his pillow, catching sight of a bespectacled face in his peripheral vision as he did so.

“I do hope you’re not here to nick more of my stuff,” he mumbled wryly.

Kyari’s eyes flickered open, the sleep drifting out of her. “Wha"?" She looked up. "Oh. I'm not going to steal anything. The only reason I did before is because they were mine. And I'm keeping the six you threw at me in the fight. Unless you can steal them back."

"I doubt that'll happen anytime soon," he laughed. "What are you doing here anyways? Don't you have more exciting things to be doing than sitting on some chair and twiddling your thumbs?"

She smiled sheepishly. "I fell asleep."

"Here? Why aren't you in your own room? Shiny red arms do not a healthy look make."

"I only came in to check on you. But then my arm started getting bandaged up, and I fell asleep in the chair.”

He let his lungs deflate, sinking even further into his sheets. "Thanks for the gesture, I appreciate it, but you should probably still get your arm checked out if they only bandaged it." He closed his eyes. "Go on, I'll probably be sleeping for a little while longer."

She shook her head. "It's fine. Besides," she smiled, "the chair is comfortable."

"Stubborn," he frowned before grinning amusedly. "Hah, I guess that makes me the pot."

She laughed. "You know as well as I do that I never give up." She smiled wryly, "And neither do you."

"To an extent," he snorted.

"Ah, well...at least you don't give up. When do you think you'll be well enough to fight again?"

"I don’t know, let me check,” he replied as he gave his right leg a little jerk, only to frown when he found that the whole limb seemed to have gone on vacation and simply wasn't responding to his mental commands. "I'll tell you when the stupid anesthetic’s worn off," he finally grumbled.

Her eyes darkened, afraid of the implications. "I'm sorry," she whispered dropping her head into her hands.

"I'm sure it's just the anesthetic," he tried to reassure her. "And even if it wasn't, it might be a good thing. Not being able to fight would probably make my life expectancy sky-rocket," he joked lamely. "Either way, sitting here worrying about it isn't going to help. If you ask me, the fastest way to pass the time is to knock out for an hour or two, so if you'll excuse me, I'm going to try nab a bit of shut-eye." He pulled the sheets up to his chin and relaxed.

She smiled sadly, still worried. Knowing there was nothing she could do for now, she stood and left the room.

 

*           *           *

 

The hours passed and Seth finally woke up once more, now feeling highly refreshed, if at the cost of his leg experiencing a sensation which could be likened to what one would feel if they wore sandpaper pants to a track meet.

"Oh, stop whining, you only lost half your flesh," he complained to himself, trying to slip out of bed. "Hm, well at least it's moving," he mumbled as he levered himself onto both feet and tried to take a few steps. "Stiffer than a wooden crate, though. Oh well, nothing a little exercise won't fix." He set about wandering around the wing, trying to get his leg back in working order.

He tottered around for quite some time, never getting quite the maneuverability in his leg that he would have liked, and finally gave up in disgust, hobbling over to his generic bedside table to look over his items.

Hmmm, I’m running low on smoke bombs, herbs, and flash bangs. His eye twitched at that last one. A squeak emanated from the sack, and a small hamster poked its head out of the cloth bag’s mouth.

“Heh, then there’s you.” He scratched the furry little creature on the head. “I couldn’t get rid of you if I tried,” he laughed. He actually had tried. Multiple times. The fuzzy little tyke just never went away.

Shoving the entire ensemble, hamster and all gently to the side, he happened upon something he’d missed earlier: a broken arrow. Huh, I forgot about that.

 “Weird metal,” he mumbled as he took the arrow head and tested it on his finger, receiving a small prick for his efforts. “Still sharp too.” He reached down, hauled one of his greaves onto the table, and dragged the arrow across the metal boot. “Too sharp in fact.” The arrow head had left a deep score in the steel.

Narrowing his eyes, he stood back up and half-stumbled, half-walked to the door, arrow in hand. Metal like that didn’t grow on trees, and he was going to find out what exactly her family had done to come across such a wondrous substance.

 

*           *           *

 

Kyari went to collect her daggers from the tree she had thrown them into, slumping to the ground next to it, her back against the wood. I shouldn't feel so awful about this, but I do.

 

*           *           *

 

Seth shuffled his way out of the infirmary, repeatedly refusing the many offers of aid he received from every medic he met, and eventually made it out into a peaceful courtyard near the building. Wandering around the smattering of trees, he had begun to wonder whether he had misjudged the small girl when he spotted her laying against a tree a couple of feet to his right.

"Up and about already? Sheesh, does nothing short of Armageddon stop you?" he grinned as he inched his way towards her. "But pleasantries aside, there's something I wanted to ask you about." He hefted the broken arrow shaft in his hand. "What exactly is this and how did you get a hold of it"

"What does it look like? It’s metal"same stuff on the bottom of my boots," Kyari snapped. Sighing, she made room for him to sit next to her if he wished. He took her offer, grateful for the chance to rest his leg. Perhaps he wasn't quite as recovered as he though he'd been. “I don’t know where my father got it. I’m sure it would have to have been expensive, since I don’t see a lot of other fighters using that type of metal. The daggers I wear are made out of ‘emory’ or so he called it, as well as the arrow tips and the soles of my boots.

“He was a harsh trainer,” she continued, caught up in the chance to tell her story, “and always expected nothing less than my best. He's the one who taught be how to use my bow, and taught me a little bit on throwing daggers. Not to mention sword fighting."

She smiled wistfully, and then went on, "I never really understood why I was different. I never got out; I wasn’t allowed to go out. Other than that, I always had my nose buried in a book, or I was practicing. That was how I lived."

"It all changed a week before my twelfth birthday.” In a voice edging on a quiver, she kept going, “My father was killed"tortured and murdered"before my eyes. I kept my weapons, and that was pretty much it. There was no time for anything else. I don’t think trying to figure out why my father kept me so secluded matters.”

"If you think understanding who you are doesn't matter, then I think you've got some rather messed up priorities," he mumbled silently, twirling the broken arrow in his fingers. "Besides, even if you really don't care, it's only a matter of time before someone starts hunting you down for this." He held up the flight. "I've honestly never seen anything like it..."

"I don't care about understanding who I was. I understand who I am now." She took the arrow from his fingers, examining it more closely. "I suppose I can understand why you're interested by it. But I have no idea where my father got it from, nor where he could've gotten it."

She handed the arrow back to him, and then pulled her knees up to her chest. "The more I think about it, the more I realize how little I really know about myself and my past. But after running away, the only thing I had time to think about was survival. The first street fight I was in I nearly died."

“How do you expect to understand who you are if you don’t understand who you were? I guess as long as you know where you want to go, not knowing is all right as long as you keep in mind that it might just come back to bite you in the rear.” He sighed and leaned back into the tree, absently twirling the arrow.

She glanced down at her chest. "Unfortunately, even if I wanted to try to find out who I was, the only family link I have is this necklace," she said, taking it off, and holding it in her hand.

 “You don’t need to concentrate on surviving; at least not fully right now, so the question is ‘Are you going to follow that trinket of yours, or not?’” He glanced at the small chain in her hand.

She held it up, watching the sun glance off of it. "Why does it matter to you? I'm just your trainer.”

He snorted. "Just because you're not me doesn't mean you’re any less important than I am. We're all human, and we're not all that different." He put the arrow on the ground beside him. "Sometimes it's not a bad idea to act towards others in a way you'd want them to act towards you. If you do it enough, they might follow suit."

"I mean, why are you so interested that I know who I am?" She looked him in the eyes. "Is there something more you're not telling me?"

He paused for a long moment. "Let's just say that life's a lot easier if you understand who you are and leave it at that."

She shrugged, changing the subject. "It's going to be awhile before you're back on your feet fighting, isn't it?"

"Probably," he admitted, quirking one eyebrow up, but deciding to let it slide. "Though if you don't mind putting up with an invalid, I could probably stand a regular, non-lethal spar or two. My leg won't get better if I don't use it."

"It's fine with me. No mortal injuries sounds like a pleasant change."

"Hah, you're telling me," he laughed as he got slowly to his feet. "Though it might have to wait until later, I'm already feeling knackered." The brown haired ex-soldier patted the dirt off his pants. "How about I meet you in the Closed Arena tomorrow?"

"Sure. I really do hope you recover quickly.”

"I'll be fine, just you watch." He waved her concerns off, with a gesture to match before heading back to his room. "I'll see you tomorrow then."